James Snored On Obliviously As Ever
by schizometriclanguage
Summary: Sirius and Remus are visiting James and end up sharing the bed; Remus is clingy when he's sleeping.


Sirius prodded at Remus, wondering if he was going to wake up. There wasn't any other reason to prod at him really, just that Remus looked very silly when he was waking up. Remus stirred but through increasingly violent prods to his back he simply turned in towards Sirius, sliding and arm around Sirius's waist in the process. His expression had gone sour in his sleep but settled as he fell back into the deeper cycles of sleep.

Sirius however, had gone rigid. He wasn't expecting that. This unconscious intimacy had caught him off guard. And it wasn't as though Remus were awake; Sirius couldn't ask him what the bloody hell he thought he was doing. For now, he was completely and utterly, trapped. Trapped, caged, in Remus arms. Not a completely dissatisfactory position, but rather one that could contribute to a condition of being a little _too_ satisfied.

_"Cripes,"_ Sirius said, trying to squirm out from underneath. To his dismay, Remus only tightened his grip. He took several deep breathes. Remus was very handsome in the moonlight. To add to the universe conspiring against him, a soft breeze even came from the summer night and gently _caressed_ Remus' hair. It wasn't just hair floundering about; it was a careful _waft_ of summer scented air, _caressing_ over Remus' face in small little strokes like a delicate hand with a paint brush and lifting his hair. It was a sick, cruel, nasty, terrible, somewhat brilliant, joke.

"Hah...ha," Sirius tried to jest with the universe, "you've got me."

Feeble, feeble, he thought.

Sirius tried clawing Remus' hands off of him in silent desperation, but Remus might as well have been a corpse, albeit a corpse with a very strong grip. Rigor mortis, it was called, wasn't it? His arm had now fastened around his waist with absolutely no intention of moving, the other still underneath his pillow. He was warm, his skin radiating heat. His breath tickled at Sirius' neck.

"Wake up," Sirius muttered again, trying to shift himself discreetly, the softness of his voice and delicate manner contradicting his wishes of trying to release himself. He stopped, laid still, more or less resigning himself to the situation and holding his breathe trying to distract himself with counting how long he could go without air. After about seventy-three seconds he found out and then it only made him feel more light-headed.

"Well, bugger," he sighed.

Bringing up a free hand, Sirius brushed back Remus' hair, which was covering his face. His expression was serene, nicely contented, and sadder than most people he knew. Sirius could feel his apprehension slipping away, comforted with the things he liked about Remus. Through the nights they'd spent at the Potter's, he'd thought about being close to Remus every night and as a result hadn't been able to sleep; he would be afraid of any part of his body touching him, afraid that Remus would recoil. So instead he'd make himself as small as possible and cleave to the side of the bed, James snoring obliviously in the single bed across from them.

He thought maybe he should make a real effort to wake Remus. It didn't feel fair to take advantage of him, especially in his sleep. If he were take advantage of him, it ought to be when he was conscious because than Remus could probably stop him before he got along far enough to embarrass himself. A good thwap on the head and he'd be on his way, or a twist of words that always trivialized the moment...

Remus smelled nice. It wasn't a scent he could describe, but it was clean, homely and overall just quietly suggested that there wasn't much to worry about. Sirius moved his head to the side and stopped just short of taking a nice big whiff of Remus. This is ridiculous, Sirius thought mournfully.

"_Mo-ony_," he sang into his ear more loudly than he would have liked for fear of waking the Potters, "Just thought you'd like to know that there's a large hunk of vermin creeping across the bed."

Remus opened his eyes suddenly, looking incredulous. He looked hilarious.

"Just taking a piss," Sirius said with a strained grin plastered on his face as Remus realized that he was attached.

"...sorry," Remus muttered, moving his arm.

"No, wait," Sirius said, grabbing at him. They were both halfway to being upright, propped rigidly on elbows. Remus had gone somewhat expressionless. It wasn't so much in the category of hilarity anymore. Their faces were closer than Sirius would have liked, and it really felt as though he should do something and it was really very fortunate that it was dark because he was sure that his face was some derivative of a violent plum shade.

"It's all right," he forced out, lying back into the overzealous mountain of pillows, his hand still firmly holding Remus' in place. Stupid, stupid, so tragically stupid, Sirius bemoaned, shutting his eyes tightly. He tried to relax, pretend that he was hardly awake himself, pretend that this was _completely normal_. James snored on obliviously as ever.

Remus settled again. Maybe he fell asleep quickly, maybe not. Sirius didn't know if Remus would even remember in the morning. Maybe he'd check, or maybe he'd just lay there holding his breathe because suddenly even breathing seemed like a little too much movement.


End file.
